


wet wood upon fire

by fakeclover



Series: scrapped valentines [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Healing, Reconciliation, broken!chenyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakeclover/pseuds/fakeclover
Summary: Chanyeol's always been good at finding him, and Jongdae never thought of it as a bad thing.





	wet wood upon fire

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: chenyeol au where they dated and had a messy break-up, then a few years later a mutual friend reintroduces them and it's awkward but they learn to be friends again
> 
> this is part two of a series of fics i wanted to write for everyone who doesn't have a good time on valentine's day. it's a bs day, you're not alone. i'm very late but here we go!
> 
> 🎶 the fic title is a line borrowed from 'this weather' by patrick wolf

Jongdae is folding his scarf and tucking it into the sleeve of his coat when he notices. He might not have seen it in years but he'd know it anywhere; from the obnoxious pink and purple stripes to the hole near the sleeve that a cigarette burned into it. He sets down Yixing's gift on the dresser in the hall, arranges the card he wrote to go with it nicely. Ignores how hard his hands shake as he smoothes out the bow on top of the box. Spots the shoes next to Kyungsoo's.

He's too furious, feels too betrayed to announce his departure, slings his coat over his shoulders, ignores the coathanger clattering to the floor, storms out as quietly as he can otherwise. The relief when the door snaps close behind him makes Jongdae almost dizzy. He takes the elevator down; he doesn't trust himself not to fall down the stairs in his state. The air outside is so cold it hurts to breathe in so he takes especially deep breaths, and he can't remember a time when he felt a pain this sharp, neither in his heart nor his lungs. He stuffs his arm into the sleeve bulged out from his scarf, needs several tries to zip the coat up. His heart feels flash-frozen.  
The darkness and the biting cold swallow Jongdae down and spit him out on one of the swings in the tiny park at the corner. He grips the ice-cold chains to forget about the distant but distinct memory of the weight of an engagement ring around his finger.

He wants to call Yixing and yell at him, for the first time. He wants to call his sister, offer to babysit his niblings for the night, or the entire weekend. Wants to cry but he's cried that well dry years ago.  
Jongdae just sits and takes the cold creeping over his skin and into his bones as a punishment for letting the rage pulse through his veins, for wanting to lash out. Feels how indifference settles over him just as he hears him coming from far away. He doesn't run this time, just closes his eyes and waits. Chanyeol's always been good at finding him, and Jongdae never thought of it as a bad thing.  
He doesn't say anything, and Jongdae only knows he's there from the occasional sniffle he hears, like the air makes his nose runny, the creaking of the chains when he swings a little beside him.

"Hey," Chanyeol finally says, and something in Jongdae collapses in relief, shatters the cooling anger into a thick layer of serenity. He's avoided him ever since Chanyeol broke up with him, not that he had a choice at first, and neither the pain nor the resentment come flooding back. His violent reaction earlier must have been an attempt at raising a wall between them, but now it doesn't feel like his heart is in danger of shattering again.

"Didn't know you'd be there," Chanyeol says. "I wouldn't have come."

Jongdae opens his eyes, stares into the mulch below. Pushes it around with the tip of his shoe. Doesn't know what to say. Still isn't ready to turn his head and see him. He's heard things, looked him up a few times over the years. Knows Chanyeol still makes music, still posts his incomprehensible former art student comics online. Knows he's married.

"Will you come back to the party? I can leave, if you want."

Jongdae clears his throat. "No," he says, "I'm on my way home." Stays put on the swing. The cold is getting to him, but he won't leave before Chanyeol does. Jongdae is stubborn, and not good at leaving things, people behind.

"Jongdae," Chanyeol says, and his tone is so apologetic Jongdae's anger almost catches fire again.

"Don't," he says. Cuts another attempt off with a firm 'no'. Lets them sit in silence for a while.

"I wanted to marry you, you know," Jongdae says when he's had enough. Watches the white of his breath disappear into the night air. They never talked, never gave each other a chance to. "I never wanted to get married, I still don't, but I would have done it. For my best friend."

The day Chanyeol had proposed—in the middle of getting changed for bed, Jongdae complaining about the too long sleeves of his onesie, Chanyeol tying them together so he'd move on to complain about him, pulling him into his arms and crying all of a sudden. Jongdae pushing his mess of sleeves into his face to soak up the tears, barely understanding what Chanyeol was saying under his breath. Making out the 'marry me' after a while.

"And you just—you started spacing out. Stopped looking at me. Stopped talking to me about yourself. You said you'd never stop loving me, but you just did." Jongdae takes a deep breath, holds the air in until it hurts. Still doesn't look over. He's not sure he wants to see Chanyeol's reaction, just wants to get this off his chest. "And I could have dealt with that. With you falling out of love with me. But you drifted away, put this distance between us. Losing you as a friend broke my heart."

Chanyeol looks so guilty when he does look, and Jongdae thinks he shouldn't, still remembers his face, almost blank when he announced he'd move out, away, where to was none of Jongdae's concern. Jongdae's own hurt evaporated little by little over the time, went from a sea to a barely noticeable puddle on the sidewalk, just deep enough to get his socks thoroughly wet should he step in it. It should be the same for Chanyeol, more so since he made the decision. He doesn't know what to say to him. It's not his place anymore to soothe, so he just lets him be, wiggles his fingers to get the feeling in them back.

It's nice outside in the cold and quiet, a sliver of the moon peeking out behind clouds rushing by, time standing still like it never did for them. Jongdae knows he shouldn't have run away from the party, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He said what he'd carried around for years, turned over and over again, a millstone that looks as heavy as a house, now that he shed it.

"I miss you," Chanyeol suddenly says into the night, so softly that Jongdae almost doesn't catch it. It's not an apology, so he bites his tongue, bites back the bitterness he nursed until it was monstrous enough to devour the affection he harboured for Chanyeol. It's a shell now, Chanyeol-shaped but empty.

"I thought you'd never forgive me for falling out of love with you. That's why—" Chanyeol has his face buried in his hands now, and his shoulders are shaking. He'd always been at his most silent crying, and Jongdae feels bad for picking and pulling at scars, but not burdeningly bad. They seem to have never healed correctly for either of them, maybe new wounds they show each other and tend to properly is what they both need.  
He gets up from the swing, walks a few indecisive steps, lets his hand find its way to Chanyeol's head. Pats it gently. He fears the gesture is coming across as condescending until he feels Chanyeol leaning into it, rubbing his head into his palm.

"I miss you, Jongdae, so much," Chanyeol says again, between sniffles so loud he'd chide him for them, at any other time. His eyes look even bigger with tears in them, and Jongdae longs to make jokes about them again.

"I missed you, too," Jongdae replies, and it feels good to say it, to tell Chanyeol and not someone else who'd fear Jongdae would burst into tears again. He grips the chains of Chanyeol's swing, pulls on them so he swings to the side, uncoordinated, left and right, until their legs bump into each other. Jongdae sighs or maybe laughs or something inbetween, at the expression on Chanyeol's face, the disbelief widening his eyes even more. He's an adult, had been back then, doesn't need Jongdae to tell him how absurd he acted, that they could have talked. Chanyeol still looks up at him like he expects him to.

Jongdae lets go, lets him struggle to find his balance and pushes his phone into Chanyeol's hand when he sits upright again, a new contact open. "I'll text you. You have two weeks to invite me out for noraebang," he says. "Your treat."

Chanyeol nods, wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, keys in his number. "Just us?" he asks.

"Bring anyone who can stand losing against me." Jongdae sends him a quick 'hey, this is your ex jongdae. it's been a while' when he gets his phone back, tucks it into his coat pocket. Pulls out a tissue, flicks it at Chanyeol's chest. "Now go, you have a birthday party to attend."

He's had enough of the cold, of Chanyeol for today. He's not sure where this will go, if they can find a bridge above the abyss of their break-up, if he'll ever cuddle up with Chanyeol on a couch again, trying to watch a documentary while Chanyeol pauses it every thirty seconds to infodump—but he'll certainly take the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> i genuinely have no clue how this got so long  
> ty for reading 🔧  
> please let me know if it made you feel anything
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/fakeclover) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/fakeclover)


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